New Year’s Doesn’t Matter

– New Year, New You
– Resolutions
– Promises
– Fresh starts
– New Month; New Year; NEW DECADE! What WILL you accomplish?
…..

Sick of all the same kind of posts yet?
This time of year (and especially this year, because 2020 – WOWZA) it can feel like the pressure is ON to somehow reinvent ourselves; become super duper mindful, become better than ever. People are dusting off their gym clothes, getting out their journals and food scales, promising themselves and their entire social media network that THIS.IS.THEIR.YEAR. Things are ’bout to get REAL for everyone. REAL, I tell ya.

But what if we just want to, you know, chill a bit?

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When Missing You Never Ends

My Grandma was someone whom I didn’t fully appreciate until she was gone. We were close, but in her lifetime I didn’t get the opportunity to form a relationship with her as an adult or as a mother or as a friend. She passed away one month before I became pregnant with The Big and while I feel certain that she still knew him in a spiritual way, a big part of me will always mourn the fact that my Grandma and The Big (and The Little) never got to know each other here on earth.

My beautiful Grandma

Some people pass and we think of them from time to time: on special occasions or when we come across something that reminds us of them. But I carry my Grandma in my heart and in my consciousness nearly all the time. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her and I often feel her energy and spiritual presence around me. There are parts of who I am that I didn’t realize came from both my Grandma and my own mother. Aspects of my character that I used to think of as weaknesses that I now cherish as family traits. I see now that qualities such as my highly sensitive nature are what make me my own unique square on a beautiful family quilt. Cut from the same cloth, indeed.

I am a highly sensitive person. When I read articles like this one, I think, “Ohhhh….that’s ME!”. If you know me personally no doubt you can see that, too. I look to my Mom and see where I get it from. A super awesome part about becoming an adult (besides choosing my own bedtime and eating chocolate in the morning) is forging a new relationship with my Mom. I always knew we would, at this stage, talk about “adulting” topics like finances and parenting and recipes. I didn’t anticipate talking about spirituality and personalities and deep, deep topics that many people simply aren’t aware of or don’t relate to. It is uber cool. I so badly wish I could speak to my Grandma about these things, too. I do, in my own way, but not in a way that would allow me to reach out and hold my Grandma’s hand or inhale her scent during a long hug (Snuggle fabric softener). What I wouldn’t give to know my Grandma in this new way. This way of being an adult and having a friendship that goes beyond the expected family ties. My heart aches to be able to pour her a cup of coffee on a sunny morning and sit on my porch with her in the flesh beside me, gently slurping as we both take in the morning sun and the sound of the birds. She used to do this when she’d visit (it drove my Dad crazy): she’d pour her morning coffee then take it down to the front door. Looking to the sky out the front of the house she would slurp a sip then sigh. A moment later she’d pad down the hallway to the back door, then look to the sky out the back of the house and slurp a sip then sigh. My Dad always wondered if the weather was very different at the front of the house compared to the back. Now I wonder if she was considering the weather at all, or if she was taking in something bigger. Better. Invisible.

This blog has no ending because the love I have for Grandma deepens all the time. I miss her more as time goes on. And while I intend to get her know her still, on a spiritual level, I will continue to ache for her. It’s been almost 9 years and I have learned that you never stop missing someone, you just get used to carrying around the ache of their absence. There is a quote by Jamie Anderson that says, “Grief is just love with no place to go.”. I couldn’t agree more.

For those of you carrying around this ache (now that we’re in our 30s I imagine that’s most of us), I am sorry for your losses…

Take care of yourself,
Mel

Grief is just love with no place to go

Jamie Anderson

The Spiritual Closet

As a military wife, it’s important for me to believe that each part of our military family journey happens for a reason. It is important for me to think and believe and know way down in my soul that each posting, each promotion, each change (for the better or not), happens because we are meant to learn something from it. This concept didn’t come to me for a while. In fact, only in the past few years have I felt this way. Before that, and without this understanding, our lives felt so random. It felt that we were moved around and that things were changed willy-nilly; without purpose, without reason. It felt that no one was watching out for us. That the military, even the nation (in so far as the military is concerned), was first and foremost always first. That we were an afterthought. That THE greater good always and forever outweighed OUR greater good. Feeling this way made me feel neglected. Forgotten. Unimportant to the universe at large, really.

But now things have changed. Well, I should say that I have changed. I believe we are always where we are most meant to be. I believe that we move when and where we do so that we may cross paths with specific people at specific times so that either they or we (or both) can benefit from each other’s personalities, experiences, knowledge, and spirits.

I’ve become a different version of myself in the last 12 months. Mel 2.0? 3.0? How many versions of ourselves do we evolve through as we age and mature? I’m still me: still optimistic and family-oriented and cheerful and sarcastic and highly emotional. But…and here is the grand announcement so to speak…I’ve become…spiritual.

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